


They Who Bear the Deepest Wounds

by shealynn88



Category: Heroes/Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bloodplay, Episode: s01e20 Five Years Gone, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-23 23:49:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/932534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shealynn88/pseuds/shealynn88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They may be on opposite sides of this war, but they still have a lot in common.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They Who Bear the Deepest Wounds

Dean sneers when he sees the name on the dressing room door. 'Jessica.'

He only met her once, briefly, but the memory makes it perfectly clear that the girl dancing on the stage up front isn’t her.

He's quiet as he glances around and catalogues the room. Someone's stashed knives under the counter and there's a shotgun hidden in a makeshift holster behind the door. It could get the girl arrested if Dean was in that kind of mood.

There are old pictures on the mirror—the kid is perpetually young and the man is smiling, one heavy hand on the kid's shoulder. He looks proud. He looks happy.

The last time Dean saw D.L. was four years ago, and he hadn't looked anything like that anymore.

No one does. People are so damn fragile.

When the door clicks open Dean dodges behind it and shuts down. He knows a stray thought can give him away.

He shuts off easily, now. He's had a lot of practice.

The doorway looks empty, but Dean knows better. He can feel the slight stir of air as someone passes and he rushes forward as soon as he can gauge the distance, slamming them both against the wall. Peter gives a little 'whuff' as he hits, and Dean grins. He still can't see him, but he can _feel_ him, knows that he's facing the wall, that he's up on the balls of his feet and that his hands are pressed, fingers spread, against the wall.

The cuffs _snick_ on Peter's left wrist and give Dean all the leverage he needs. A quick twist and a well placed knee, and Dean's got Peter kneeling with both hands cuffed behind his back. Dean yanks Peter's head back with a handful of hair and he shimmers into focus.

Dean laughs roughly and kneels behind him. "You're getting sloppy," he growls, and then he sinks his teeth into Peter's shoulder until he tastes blood. Peter gasps, arching back.

"You're getting quick," Peter says softly as Dean watches the wound close.

Dean hauls Peter to his feet and kicks the door shut before he spins him around and slams him up against it. "Yeah. I am."

He's not gentle—he knows he's crushing Peter's hands behind him, and he knows Peter doesn't care. He's pretty sure that most of the reason Peter stays with Niki is that he's waiting for Jessica. Waiting for her to use that strength on him.

Dean does what she can't. Won't.

He bites until his teeth meet through Peter's lip, and Peter whimpers. Dean traces the scar with his bloody tongue as the lip heals, and he presses closer, closer, until all he can feel is Peter, lean and tall and hard against him.

The scar fascinates him, now. It speaks of time gone by, of death and rebirth and the one person in his life who will never die.

Dean hadn't meant to scar him. He'd meant to _kill_ him. He'd wanted the satisfaction of seeing Peter's blood on the pavement, his eyes glossed over and lifeless. Hell, if Jessica hadn't held him back and taken Hiro's sword, he probably would have hacked Peter to pieces.

He'd thought it would make it better, somehow. But nothing will ever bring Sam back. Nothing can make that better.

Five years later, the scar just means that Peter's as close to a sure thing as Dean is ever going to get. And he's sure as hell not going to give that up.

He bites Peter's jaw and presses against him and tugs at his belt.

There's a dull _snap_ and Peter's hands are suddenly free. Dean grapples him for a few short moments but all the dirty tricks he's learned over the years are no match for the strength that used to be Jessica's.

"I knew you were here," Peter whispers in Dean's ear, just before he bites down. "I couldn't _hear_ you," his voice fades to something almost threatening. "But I could _smell_ you. You stink of fury, Dean."

_Fuck you,_ Dean thinks, and then thought fades to static when Peter grinds against him.

"You better watch that," Peter says quietly, flicking his tongue against Dean's ear. "Parkman doesn't like his underlings anything less than…civil."

_So_ make _me civil, fucker,_ Dean thinks. It's a challenge, and it's as close as he'll ever come to begging.

Peter answers by kissing him harshly and then spinning him around. Dean's belt unbuckles itself and Peter's laugh is a low growl.

He takes the illusion of choice away and they both stop pretending they're anything but broken and furious. They're two damaged soldiers spinning out of control, holding onto moments and fragments and memories that are fractured and dead.

Niki may think that Peter sits back, but she's wrong. Dean knows that all he ever does, all _either_ of them do anymore, is fight.

It hurts like hell, just the way it should, and Dean digs his fingers into unforgiving wood as Peter clutches his hips and drives into him. The cuffs on Peter's wrists bite into Dean's sides and the broken links scrape beneath them in a cruel caress.

He bites his own lip to keep from moaning as the pain morphs into something more.

They let go together, half a moment of forgetting where and who they are as Peter shudders against him and Dean lets himself go.

Half a moment been and gone and they're back to being two screwed up guys with too much baggage and not enough time.

"So, what did you _really_ come here for?" Peter asks.

Dean raises an eyebrow.

"You didn't come five states just to fuck," Peter says flatly. "Tell me."

Dean shifts gears easily, and for the first time in months, he lets himself think about everything that's been happening. "Parkman says they're working on a cure, but the doctor's scared. You said he used to be on your side. It's something to keep an eye on." Dean slides closer, afraid someone will overhear them. He searches Peter's face, looking for some kind of emotion. But Peter's been at this almost as long as he has, and there's nothing there.

"You heard about Bennett?" Dean asks.

Peter nods once.

"I think it was Parkman. I heard things…they're planning something big. They keep talking about a girl. Someone Parkman can't wait to get his hands on."

And there it is. Peter's eyes fix on his, suddenly attentive. "A girl?"

"Yeah," Dean says suspiciously. "A girl. And she's important."

Peter nods slowly. "And you think it's related to what happened with Bennett?"

Dean shrugs. "It all happened around the same time."

Peter nods, muttering something under his breath. Something about a cheerleader. "Where is she? Do you know?"

Dean shakes his head. "That's your department, man. I can't just…" he gestures with his hands. " _Poof_. But it's important. You need to find her before Parkman does."

Peter laughs bitterly. "Save the world, huh?"

Dean shakes his head. "We just need to keep fighting, man. What else is there?"

Peter walks to Niki's mirror and leans forward on the vanity. "I try not to think about it." He turns abruptly. "I'll find the girl. Do you need a place to crash, or are you going back tonight?"

"Tonight."

Peter nods. "Let's hope we don't see each other anytime soon."

"Yeah."

There's nothing else to say. He leaves the way he came, through a door marked with the name of someone who no longer exists, and back into a world where he doesn't, either.

But if he ever makes it back here, he knows Peter will be waiting.

It's not much, but it's all he's got.  



End file.
